


When the Day is Finally Quiet

by bookstorequeer



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Adorable Baby Yoda (The Mandalorian TV), Bacta (Star Wars), Bad Day Cuddles, Cuddles, Din Djarin Needs a Hug, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Good Parent Din Djarin, Hurt/Comfort, ManDadlorian, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28116906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookstorequeer/pseuds/bookstorequeer
Summary: It was supposed to be a quick trip. It wasalwayssupposed to be an easy job. But things inevitably went sideways.There was a coo at his side but he shook his head."Sorry, kid, I can't."
Comments: 12
Kudos: 187





	When the Day is Finally Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> No particular spoilers but some familiarity with **The Mandalorian** would help! This happened because I was having a bad day and wanted some fluff.
> 
> And I know we know what his name is but until he introduces himself in the show, I'm going to over-use 'he' instead.

The wind drove sand into the creases of his flight suit, sticking to the blood and ichor on his armour. It was supposed to be a quick trip. It was _always_ supposed to be an easy job. But things inevitably went sideways. There would be back-up, elusive bounties, or too many fighters, too few explosive charges. This time he'd broken his blaster before managing to disarm the thieves.

There was a coo at his side but he shook his head.

"Sorry, kid, I can't."

The responding gurgle was somehow dejected, despite being mostly vowels.

He stopped, sighing at the tiny weight against his aching leg. His head spun inside his beskar and there was a nagging sharpness whenever he took a full breath. His bruises had bruises and _something_ kept dripping down his thigh. He told himself it was sweat, but it probably wasn't.

He wanted to pick up the child but his arms were full of the artifacts he'd been tasked with retrieving and the strap on the kid's carry bag had broken leagues ago. He'd run out of fuel for his jetpack, his cloak had been tied twice around breakable stolen goods, and he was still unsure why he'd even agreed to this in the first place.

Retrieval was outside the realm of bounty hunting but the people asking had fed the child well, given him a new blanket to keep the foundling warm among the stars, and he'd said yes before thinking it through. Now they were walking across endless dunes with a cracked display pointing them in what he hoped was the right direction.

His tongue clicked with thirst and he didn't need a helmet display to know that despite the heat, they _had_ to move faster. What had started as a bad day was turning into a worse one. They didn't have time for the kid's waddle if they were going to beat the setting sun back to town. He'd heard the odd scrape of beast over sand but they would grow bolder once the dark settled in.

"Bah."

Turning too quickly made the world tilt. It steadied, a little, while he stared down at the child flopped across the sand. On his knees before that pleading face, he sighed at the arms reaching out for him.

"Kid, I need to carry—"

"Bah..."

The down-turned head made his heart ache.

"...Fine." Setting their bounty aside, he picked up the happy, wriggling bundle. "But you better hold on tight." He prayed to the Manda'lor that no one in the Covert found out he'd ever used his jetpack as a childseat. Once the kid was in place, tiny hands clinging to the beskar like a Tatooine sand flea, toes popped out on either side of his head, he clambered back to his feet.

It wasn't ideal and something in his chest groaned but there were happy coos against the back of his helmet and he smiled to himself. Gathering the overflowing armful of relics, he shrugged to settle his burdens into place. 

People stared when they finally made it back to town but he'd freed a hand enough to tickle a little green foot to raucous giggles, and he couldn't bring himself to care. People always stared and, anyway, the kid was happy. He ignored them as usual until they were safely tucked away within the _Razor Crest_. 

"Bah?"

Stowing spent bacta-packaging away, he glanced down at the kid. Those arms were reaching for him again. With a sigh, he bent over; ribs twinged but the pain was duller than before.

"Bah!"

He couldn't feel the arms around his helmet but the coos echoed against beskar. The kid tucked in close, warm and solid in his hold, and he couldn't quite let go.

A glance at the setting sun saw shadows lengthening in the corners of the ship. After a heartbeat, child leaning against his plate armour, he closed the ramp and looked down at his bundle. They could both do with a night planet-side.

"We'll go in the morning."

He smiled at the responding coo and set about their nightly routine with his one free hand. He ate left-handed because the kid whined, refusing to be set down, and didn't even try to resist the urge to curl up together on his bunk. The tiny hammock felt too far away when he'd had a rough day. There was something soothing about having that warmth weighing on his chest; at least once the bacta had slotted his ribs back into place.

"Bah?"

"I'm right here, kid, not going anywhere."

He smiled and nudged that tiny forehead with his. The child wouldn't understand the significance but he liked sharing the Mandalorian greeting. Arms came up to hug his helm and he nodded off listening to soft, sleepy coos. His dreams were filled with frogs and tiny sons waddling after them.


End file.
